Acousmatic Sorcery

This is a minimalist masterpiece.

Beal's vocals shift from Screaming Jay Hawkins wails to the lo-fi R&B melancholy of Cody ChesnuTT, while his chattering snake times rhythms summon up the ghosts of Moondog and Sun Ra, taking things to another level entirely. [Jun 2012, p.83]

Mesmerising. [May 2012, p.96]

Despite (or maybe because of) his peculiar web of influences, Beal is a strikingly singular performer, synthesizing various muses into something deeply unique.

Like strangers arguing in public or a weary couple who went out to dinner just to break up loudly in the restaurant, Acousmatic Sorcery offers a similar, sometimes unbearably honest look into a very personal world.

Acousmatic Sorcery's imperfections are unapologetic and unconcerned, largely stamping all over any chances of bringing the overall experience down.

At times it's testing, but there are flashes of phenomenal creative genius here that are destined to manifest further.

You'll either love it or hate it but, ignore the buzz, take it on it's own merits, and you might very well be rewarded.

Acousmatic Sorcery won't propel Beal to Lana Del Rey levels of fame ... it's too weird, too spooky, too idiosyncratic for that. For those who do connect with Beal's gloriously skewed vision though, you're in for a treat.

Willis Earl Beal is a phenomenal vocalist, with a unique drawl and searing tone. Phenomenal in virtuosity, yet even more astounding with his delivery.

While Acousmatic Sorcery is interesting and occasionally even great on its own, it ultimately it feels very much like a hyper-creative and gifted artist trying to figure out what he's doing.

Despite a few missteps, Acousmatic Sorcery is still a unique debut announcing the emergence of a fresh talent worthy of the buzz Beal has been receiving.

Out of its many blues like qualities the one that I see potentially defining the album as a whole is its rawness.

In short, there's lo-fi, and then there's this album.

There are moments worth latching on to but for the full effect, go stand in a club with him and watch him perform.

What is present is that instant-click connection between artist and audience that only comes with the most naked of performances--Monotony is one such riveting recital, sketchy yet complete--and Beal's commitment to documenting the minutiae alongside the meaningful in comparable detail ensures that even-handedness permeates the entire set.

Beal's lyrics proves to be the major sticking point for an album that is quite successful. Most of these tracks follow the kind of topsy turvy logic of a Kaufman film.

A bundle of raw, karaoke machine-recorded songs reminiscent of early Devendra Banhart and the more emotive work of Wesley Willis. [Mar 2012, p. 87]

It's a collection of veiled promise, but only partial pay-off.

Acousmatic Sorcery is an occasionally iridescent collection of songs, but at the end of the day it feels too tasteful, too self-consciously curated.

Beal appears determined to make his debut as inaccessible as possible. Intentionally crappy instrumentation holds the album back, stealing the focus from what is an incendiary voice--a lot of casual fans will be dumbfounded by this grating, uneasy listening.

Ultimately, a good story in and of itself does not a transcendent album make. Acousmatic Sorcery struggles with being everything you want its out-of-the-box art to be and the reality of what it is: an intriguing work overloaded with unedited brainstorms and non-sequiturs that rarely gives the more compelling elements room to breathe and stretch out.

It's frustrating and intriguing in equal doses.